


Earthbound

by 35391291



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Gen, Hugh Culber (mentioned) - Freeform, M/M, Michael Burnham (mentioned), Stars, Stream of Consciousness, Sylvia Tilly (mentioned) - Freeform, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 13:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12771609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/35391291/pseuds/35391291
Summary: He reaches out. And in the dark, he is found.Maybe it's right, to talk to the stars. They listen, too.





	Earthbound

**Author's Note:**

> Space tardigrades are awesome. That's all.

My heart flew in my mouth  
the moment that your eyes locked mine.  
I blurted something out  
along these lines:  
we're earthbound  
but we all long for flight...

\- Peter Hammill: [Earthbound](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2vLOWIlQANk).

*

All these little lights remind him of summer evenings and fireflies. Long ago.

It's funny, the things he thinks about, in a time like this. Or maybe not. Everything is made of starstuff, after all. His books. His plants. His love too. Why, why not?

This isn't something he would share with just anyone. But the moment he first saw Hugh, it was like starlight. All the colours, all the shades in the universe he'd never bothered with before. Of course. Maybe it was because of the wine. And maybe because of the opera (but on second thought, no, definitely not the opera) and maybe it took more than a moment or two, but yes, then, finally, there were the stars.

They saw each other. They found each other, up in the sky. So much space out there, and yet, they did. He tries to tell Burnham about it, because someone else needs to _know_. It's important. And meaningful. 

It was always about the stars.

And this is, too. This whole world, the whole universe in his veins. In his mouth, in his bloodstream. And, he might as well say it, in his heart.

And there's the pull of gravity, _again_. He could lose himself in it, let it spin him around and flood his mind. But he doesn't have time. It's his turn now. And he has to go. He has to go.

It is logical. It is almost final. And he won't lie, he is a bit afraid. Anyone would be, right? It makes sense. If it doesn't help, if it doesn't stop the war and the pain and all this useless endless violence, it's not enough.

It's not enough. But right now, it feels like everything.

*

He holds this map now. But it's still difficult to walk, among this crowd of stars. It's still difficult to find his way in the dark. The sky is deep and wide and so, so black. It never ends. It's like getting a taste of forever, even though he should know by now, he should _know._ He knows how it feels. He's been reading all these stars for a long time.

And maybe he should be ashamed. Maybe he should hold back. After all, everything, everyone around him says that he shouldn't. But the stars blink, in silence, and they say yes. Breathe. Walk right in. One time. Two times. One hundred times. More, if you have to. Go on, go forward, go _on_.

*

It hurts. But he understands now. His heart can't break. Not yet. Not when it still longs for flight.

It means so much. To be here. And then somewhere else, light years away. To know where to go. To go there. To _be_ there. It's overwhelming. It's too much. The stars are there, both warm and cold, and they come down from the sky, spilling out, floating, slowly, like love. And it feels so sharp and so right and so infinite. It feels like an embrace, and he doesn't want to let go. It feels like that, every time. And it still feels like that, with him.

Yes, it feels like everything.

*

The clouds look like clouds. Of course they do. But they are also like feathers and bright lights. Like fog. It could be a dream, a million dreams. But it feels so real. So sharp, so real. Magnificent. He says it out loud, to every single star, to all of _them_ , to him. Or maybe he just tries to. And he hears it back. _I love you. I love you too._ Maybe it's just wishful thinking. Maybe it's not.

He reaches out. And in the dark, he is found. There are many things that he still doesn't know. But he definitely knows belonging. And maybe the stars know what that's like, too. They are patient, they have always been kind to him. They have always been up there. So bright, so high. They never stop. And they know the way. They have their own music, and he listens.

Maybe it's right, to talk to the stars. They listen, too.

*

There are wounds all over space, wounds that might never close. But at least, his hands aren't empty. And maybe, one day it will be easier. To walk, unafraid, into the forest of stars. To wake up, to let go, to _be._

He can only hope so.

Maybe, when everything is over, he will look up at the stars, and they will look back at him, and they will say _yes, yes it was worth it._ It was all worth it. To melt into them, to come home.

*

He closes his eyes, and he still sees all these things, all these people. The same, but different. He vaguely wonders why. Tilly's hair, fierce and red, a bit like fire. Burnham's eyes are bright with the secret pain they hide. And Hugh, still there, holding his hand, bringing him back. Trying to tell him --

And he still sees the stars. All of them. So many. Time after time, it's a bit like the wine, like all the colours of that first night. Actually, it's a lot like that. It's like taking a deep breath and walking into the stars, and falling, and _falling_.


End file.
